Constant
by The Madhatter2
Summary: Constant: loyal; trustworthy; faithful; stubborn Post Inside the Box. G/C (complete)
1. Betrayal

CONSTANT  
  
By The Madhatter  
  
Chapter 1: Betrayal  
  
Disclaimer: You know who CSI belongs to, I don't need to write it all out. :P  
  
Details: Post Inside the Box. Takes place right after Catherine sees Braun about the case, and goes from there.  
  
A/N: I had to write something after the finale of this season. Linkin Park's song, "Somewhere I Belong" and 12 Stones "Let Go" inspired me. If you haven't heard those songs, I strongly suggest you download them. I think it kinda sums up Catherine's feelings to an extent. Grissom's too.  
  
+++  
  
"You gave me my strength to face another day alone I need you now, my friend, more than you know." - "Let Go" by 12 Stones  
  
Catherine Willows, dressed in charcoal gray pants, a black shirt, and a tan jacket, sat across from Sam Braun, listening to his confession. She knew it was against the rules not to interrogate a suspect without a detective present, but she didn't care. Damn the rules to hell. Not too long ago, she revealed to him that she had her blood tested and that seven alleles matched the suspects - his. Sam Braun was indeed Catherine's biological father.  
  
Greg looked sympathetic when he handed her the results. Just in one glance, her suspicions were confirmed. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Suddenly, everything in her life clicked when the results came back. No wonder her father left. No wonder Sam always felt more like a father than anybody else.  
  
As Sam finished his little revelation, Catherine, with tears in her eyes, told him, "It was just a lousy way to find out that you were my father."  
  
After that, she stood up and exited his office. There was no point in staying, staying in the same room as a murderer, her father. The thought of being related to a murderer never crossed her mind. After spending most of her lifetime trying to put those people behind bars, she was related to one that was still free. Not for long, she thought, and pulled out her cell phone.  
  
"Brass, it's Catherine. I found our murderer - Sam Braun."  
  
"You've got to be kidding me. Braun? Are you serious?"  
  
"He just copped. I got it out of him."  
  
"Where are you now?"  
  
"Right outside his office at the Rampart."  
  
"I'll be right over." He paused. "Are you okay, Catherine?"  
  
She wiped her eye, erasing away an imaginary tear. "Yeah, I will be."  
  
With that, she clicked off and waited for Brass. Within ten minutes, he was right outside of Braun's door, with a few uniforms. The three policemen went in and arrested Braun, reading him his rights. Brass, on the other hand, was outside talking with Catherine.  
  
"I'm sorry, Catherine."  
  
"Don't be. Just. just take him away."  
  
Brass looked at her uncertainly. "Are you sure you're gonna be all right? Do you need a ride home?"  
  
She shook her head. "I'll be fine. Thanks, though. Besides, I need to go see Gil."  
  
"Yeah. Where is he, anyway? I've tried reaching him for the past hour or so, but he wouldn't pick up."  
  
Catherine's mind worked quickly, forming an excuse. "He's really busy with paperwork and his bugs. I think someone delivered a new batch for him to process for a case. You know him and his bugs - he never gets away."  
  
He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. I'll be sure to put Braun in his place."  
  
"Keep me posted?"  
  
"Will do. Take care, okay?"  
  
Catherine nodded and made her way toward her Tahoe. She made her way to Desert Palm Hospital, where Grissom would be having his surgery. Quickly finding a parking space, she parked and jogged up to the automatic doors, hoping she wouldn't be too late.  
  
"May I help you?" the receptionist asked.  
  
"I need to see Gil Grissom, please?"  
  
"Just give me a moment." The brunette receptionist flipped through the schedule in front of her. Her finger dragged across the paper, searching for Grissom's name. "Mr. Grissom is in room 51 on the second floor. If you hurry, you might be able to catch him before he goes in. It's on your left when you get off the elevator."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Catherine quickly made her way to his room, but couldn't help feeling guilty. Her reason for seeing him was split. Part of her needed to see a familiar face, someone she trusted. Gil Grissom happened to be one of the few that existed in her life. The recent event with Sam made her feel weak and insecure, almost as if she didn't know where or who she was anymore. She trusted Sam, but he lied to her. The feeling of betrayal ripped her soul into shreds.  
  
The second reason was for Grissom himself. She could tell in an instant that he was nervous about the whole procedure from the start. The way he acted when he told her about his surgery was almost jumpy. It seemed that if a fly landed on his jacket, he would've exploded. His answers to her questions were short and strained, a sure sign of stress or nervousness. Maybe it would help if he saw a familiar face before he went in for some support. Besides, he was there for her in her worst times; it was time to return that gesture.  
  
Before Catherine knew it, she was already in front of his door. She stared at him for a few moments, wondering what he was thinking about, before making herself known.  
  
She cleared her throat. "Hey."  
  
His head shot to her direction, startled. "What're you doing here?"  
  
She offered him a smile. "I just wanted to see you. And I didn't want you to go in without wishing you good luck."  
  
She could've sworn she saw his lips twitch upward as he stood up and walked up to her. "Thank you. for being here."  
  
Looking up into those bright blue eyes, all feelings of guilt and selfishness vanished. He was sincere. Grissom wasn't lying. She smiled and gave him an encouraging look before hugging him. For some odd reason, being in his arms for a brief second brought a sense of comfort, a sense of security. Catherine felt safe with him, invincible almost. It was a rare feeling, and she loved it.  
  
They broke apart. Catherine looked at him again, smiling at the embarrassed, lopsided grin he had on his face. Unfortunately, it disappeared just as quickly as it came.  
  
"I don't need that," he told the nurse with the wheelchair.  
  
Catherine watched as he walked off, grinning at the revealing gown. She shook her head. Grissom was still the same; he didn't want to seem weak. She stood there for a few moments longer than necessary, thinking of what just happened.  
  
Gil Grissom would never know the extent of the strength he gave her in that hug.  
  
The sound of her phone ringing brought her out of reverie. Damn, she cursed silently. "Willows."  
  
"Brass here. We're interrogating him now."  
  
"Thanks. I'll be right over."  
  
Catherine found herself standing behind the two-way mirror, watching the interrogation of her newly acquainted father. He told Brass everything that he told Catherine, excluding the fact that he was Catherine's father. She stared intently at the man, almost loathing him. Part of her hated him for killing someone and being her biological father, yet the other couldn't be mad at him. She found herself still loving him.  
  
Brass entered the observation room with a manila folder in hand. "Did everything Braun say match up with your version?"  
  
She nodded. "Everything."  
  
"Good. Thanks for your work on this. I'm just sorry it had to end this way."  
  
"Me too, Jim. Me too." 


	2. T Edwin

CONSTANT  
  
By The Madhatter  
  
Chatper 2: T. Edwin  
  
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Sorry.  
  
A/N: Thanks a bunch for the reviews again! You guys rock! I'm glad some people find my stories worth it. :P This is probably going to be the second to the last part. I'm not that great with the technical jargon, so please excuse it if I got something wrong. Enjoy! Oh, and reviews would help immensely. ;)  
  
+++  
  
Catherine Willows hung her black jacket up in her locker, deciding that it was too expensive to get dirty. She quickly checked her makeup and hair in the locker-sized mirror, before slamming her locker shut. Looking up, she found a pair of dazzling blue eyes staring back at her.  
  
"Hey, you," she greeted the stranger. "What're you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until next shift."  
  
He shrugged. "Working."  
  
She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Grissom, you're supposed to resting. You just had surgery, for God's sake! I know it's supposed to be a short procedure, but I thought you had to be kept overnight."  
  
"I couldn't miss work."  
  
She sighed, defeated. "Walk with me." They started down the hall toward the break room. "I hope you don't plan on going out in the field tonight."  
  
"I have to. How else am I going to do my job?"  
  
"And how did you convince your doctor to let you do this?"  
  
He shrugged again. "We made a deal. He said I could work tonight as long as I go in for a checkup tomorrow morning to see how everything is functioning."  
  
Catherine shook her head. "So, you're fine now?" she asked, pouring a cup of coffee for the both of them. "You can hear just fine?"  
  
He nodded. "I'm a bit dizzy, but that's a temporary side effect. The doctor said it should go away within a few days or so."  
  
She smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."  
  
He gave her a small smile. "Me too."  
  
"So, what's up tonight, Gris?" Warrick Brown asked, grabbing a seat at the table, followed by Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle.  
  
Pulling out two slips of paper, Grissom said, "There's a double homicide at the Tangiers and a dead body in a little shop out in Henderson."  
  
"Robbery?"  
  
"Could be. No assumptions yet, remember? Catherine, Warrick - you guys work the body in Henderson. Nick, Sara - you're with me at the Tangiers."  
  
Each member of the graveyard shift moved out of the room swiftly and to their destinations. Before Catherine left, she gave Grissom one last smile of encouragement, before heading off to her crime scene.  
  
She and Warrick made it to Henderson in under 15 minutes, which was a record considering it took almost twice as long to get there going by the speed limit. When they arrived there, Sergeant O'Riley greeted them.  
  
"Howdy, folks."  
  
"Hey, Sarge," Catherine and Warrick greeted back. "What've we got?"  
  
"Dead body in there. Looks like a single shot to the back, real messy."  
  
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Messy? Single shot to the chest?"  
  
Warrick shrugged. "Let's go check it out."  
  
The two CSIs found entered the little liquor store carefully. Various food products and drinks were spilled all over the floor, along with ice. Right in the middle of the third aisle, a dead body of a man, who looked like in his mid-sixties, lay there, eagle-spread, face down. Catherine bent down and searched the pockets for any identification.  
  
"Thomas Edwin, 66," she recited from the drivers license.  
  
"Man, this looks like one nasty struggle. Poor guy probably didn't have a chance," Warrick said, taking pictures of the scene.  
  
"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right. Did you find a shell casing?"  
  
"Looking for one."  
  
"Good." Catherine surveyed the scene once more. "Is it me, or does it look like there's more blood here than there should be?"  
  
"Hmm," Warrick muttered, looking around. "Yeah. I see some blood spatter around here. It's spread across the left side of the aisle. Looks like someone knocked the guy on the right side of the head."  
  
"I think you may be right. Come over here." Catherine pointed to the back of the victim's head. "See that? Looks like something blunt maybe. But he definitely got hit in the back of the head. Doc might have more to say though. Did you find the casing?"  
  
"Still looking."  
  
Catherine stood up, through with the body and took a few more pictures of it. Then, she examined the blood spatter, to try and figure out how it all came down. When nothing came out of it, she resorted to fingerprinting. As she wrapped up her fingerprints, O'Riley came over.  
  
"The manager wants to know how much longer he's gonna stay closed."  
  
"Okay, I'll talk to him." She stood up and followed the sergeant outside, but before she exited, she noted the video camera in the corner. "Good evening, Mr."  
  
"Zipper. John Zipper."  
  
"Mr. Zipper, I'm afraid I can't tell you how long you're going to be closed. It depends how fast we can solve this case. You may have to stay closed for quite awhile. I'm sorry."  
  
Zipper's mouth hung open. "But what about business? I need the money! I have a wife and three children to take care of! I can't stay closed forever!"  
  
"I understand that, Mr. Zipper. I promise we're working as fast as humanly possible. Solving crimes, unfortunately, isn't a fast business. It takes time." Zipper was about to argue, but Catherine held up a hand, effectively silencing the man. "It won't take forever, I can promise you that. We need to keep this place closed to preserve the evidence."  
  
"Fine, fine. Do you have an estimate at least?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid not. It could be a couple days to a few weeks or months. It all depends. Now, why don't you go home to your family and be with them. You've been through a terrible ordeal."  
  
Zipper nodded. "Okay, I'll do that."  
  
"Wait, before you go, Mr. Zipper, I need to take the security tapes from this evening."  
  
"Oh sure. I'll get them for you." He went into the back room and returned with a few tapes in a bag. "Here you go. I hope you catch the bastard that killed Thomas."  
  
"Wait, you knew Mr. Edwin?" Catherine asked as she accepted the bag of tapes.  
  
"Sure. He was a regular customer here. I didn't know him, ya know, personally. We just chatted a bit every time he came by. We didn't talk about anything personal, though, mainly sports and stuff. Why?"  
  
"Thank you. If we showed you the tape, could you identify most of the people on there?"  
  
Zipper thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Probably. My store isn't that big, so not very many people know about it."  
  
"Did you see what happened tonight?"  
  
"No, unfortunately. I was in the back, checking something for a customer."  
  
"So, no one was at the checkout stand?"  
  
"Nope, afraid not." Catherine's eyebrows rose. "Look, I know it sounds stupid, but it was only gonna be for a second! A customer wanted to see if we had more Miller's Light in stock, so I went to the back to check."  
  
"Calm down, Mr. Zipper. No one's blaming you. So, how did you know Thomas was shot? Did you hear the shot?"  
  
"Yeah. That's when I ran out to see what was happening, but by the time I got there, the killer was gone."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Zipper. We might call you back in for identification on those tapes."  
  
"Okay. Is there anything else I can do while I'm here?"  
  
"No, but thanks for offering."  
  
After Warrick found the bullet casing he bagged it and went over to Catherine to see what was going on. She quickly filled him in and suggested they head back to the lab.  
  
They gave the bullet casing to Bobby Dawson, the ballistics expert, telling him to page them once he gets the results. Then they stopped over to Greg Sanders, the DNA expert, to drop some samples they collected at the scene. When they logged in all the evidence and gave it to the proper people, Warrick sought out Archie to help analyze the tapes, while Catherine went down to the autopsy room to see if Doc Robbins had anything. But before that, she made her way to the break room to grab some coffee. On her way there, she ran in to Grissom, who seemed deep in thought.  
  
"Sorry, Grissom."  
  
"Oh, hi."  
  
"You okay? Is it one of your dizzy spells again?"  
  
"Yeah, but I'll survive."  
  
"Grissom, you really should be resting." He gave her a look that said he'd rather die than do that. "Fine. Take a break then. Go grab some coffee or something. Or even sit down in your office and wait till the spell passes. You'll work yourself to death." She shoved her cup of coffee into his hand. "Drink this. It'll help."  
  
He smiled a bit. "Thanks." Then walked off.  
  
Catherine stared at him as he walked off. "You better be alive by the end of shift!" she called to him. He raised the cup like he was making a toast as his response. She shook her head. Sometimes he could be so unpredictable.  
  
She quickly made her way down to the autopsy room and met Doc Robbins. "Hey, Doc. Got anything for me?"  
  
"Just about. Come over here. Cause of death was a single shot to the back. But look at this," he turned the head to the left to show a large gash on the back of the head. "Blunt force trauma. Something knocked him out first and then was shot. My guess would be a butt of a gun of some sorts."  
  
"Great. Thanks. Is that all?"  
  
"For now. If there's anything else, I'll let you know."  
  
"Thanks, Doc."  
  
Just as Catherine left the autopsy room, O'Riley bounded up to her, waving a manila folder. "Is that Edwin's file?"  
  
He nodded. "You bet."  
  
"Great," she said, taking it from him. "Let's go see if Warrick's got anything for us." Catherine flipped through the file, becoming more and more agitated. "What the hell is this, O'Riley? Are you sure this is our guy?"  
  
"Yeah. I wasn't so sure myself, so I ran it three times. He's the only Thomas Edwin in Las Vegas, and that's his record."  
  
"No tickets or warrants or arrests, good. He has no living relatives, which makes some sense considering his age. He's retired. And from the looks of his address, not very many people knew him either. He lived out in the boonies."  
  
"Yep. The guy has nothing."  
  
"Warrick's not gonna like this."  
  
"I'm not gonna like what?" Warrick asked, walking up to her. "I'm glad I found you. Archie found something."  
  
"Great. I hope it's more than what his file gave us."  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. He has absolutely nothing. No tickets, no relatives, no job, and he lives in no man's land."  
  
"Well, that doesn't matter anymore. Wait till you see what we found."  
  
They stepped into the A/V lab and watched the tape. At approximately 7:47 pm, Thomas Edwin walked into John Zipper's store. At around 7:56 pm, Zipper entered the back room to. One minute later, he came out, headed straight for the freezer. He grabbed a bag of ice and whacked Edwin with it from behind, causing the bag to explode. Edwin crashed into the shelf in front of him, but quickly recovered and grabbed the first thing he could - a cereal box - and chucked it at Zipper. Zipper ducked and dove into the next aisle. He snuck up behind Edwin and bashed him over the right side of his head with something, causing the blood to splatter to the left. Then, he shot the gun into Edwin's back.  
  
"So, there ya go. The whole scene caught on tape."  
  
"Nice job, Warrick and Archie. Now, let's go nail that son of a bitch." 


	3. 5560 days

CONSTANT  
  
By The Madhatter  
  
Chapter 3: 5560 days  
  
Disclaimer: I will never own them.  
  
A/N: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Unfortunately, this is the last chapter. Ack! I hope you guys enjoy this one, especially those G/C shippers out there! This is for you guys!  
  
+++  
  
Catherine Willows, dressed in black, entered John Zipper's store, carrying her field case. She stepped over the strewn food and water across the floor, and made her way to the back room, where the inventory was kept.  
  
The back room was smaller than she expected. Then again, it was a small store, she thought. She flipped on the light and found boxes upon boxes of supply. Sighing, she stared to open the many boxes that lined the walls and shelves as well as in between. Catherine looked for anything suspicious that might cause Zipper to kill Thomas Edwin, namely a gun. During the search of her twelfth box, her phone rang.  
  
"Willows."  
  
"Hey," it was Warrick, who was down at Zipper's house, searching for the weapon. "Guess what?"  
  
"Please tell me you found the gun."  
  
"That, I did."  
  
She let out a whoop and closed the box she was working on. "Thank God! My back is killing me from searching all these boxes."  
  
"Meet you back at the lab."  
  
By the time Catherine made it back to the lab, Warrick had already fed the fingerprints found on the gun to AFIS. "Where did you find it?" Catherine asked Warrick, referring to the gun.  
  
"Would you believe me if I told you it was taped to the bottom of the baby's crib?"  
  
She shook her head. "Placing the murder weapon in the most innocent place. people still surprise me."  
  
"Yeah, tell me about it. Hey, I'm gonna go grab a cup of coffee, wanna come with?"  
  
"Sure, I could use some. I gave mine to Grissom last time."  
  
"Grissom? Why?"  
  
"He's mal-nurturing himself again."  
  
"He never sleeps, does he?"  
  
"Apparently not." Catherine poured two cups of coffee and handed Warrick one. "I don't know how he does it."  
  
"Neither do I." He took a sip and let the hot liquid slide down his throat. "How's Lindsey doing? I haven't seen her in days."  
  
"She's. better. Eddie's death is affecting her a lot more than she lets on. He was a bastard, but he made one hell of a father."  
  
"Hm. At least Lindsey will live with the good memories."  
  
"That's all that matters to me."  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence until they finished their drinks. "I'm going to go check and see if AFIS got a hit or not," Warrick announced, throwing away his Styrofoam cup.  
  
"I'll join you in a sec. I'm gonna drop by and see Grissom," Catherine told him as he left the room. She went over to the mini-refrigerator and pulled out an iced tea, an apple juice, and an orange juice container. Walking over to the layout room, she spotted Grissom, Sara and Nick gathered around, discussing the case.  
  
"I have no idea what else could've happened, Grissom," Sara said, exasperated.  
  
"Don't give up yet," Grissom said. "The killer left part of himself behind there, we just have to find it."  
  
"What's Sara whining about now?" Catherine teased as she walked in, carrying the drinks.  
  
"Haha. Very funny, Catherine."  
  
"So, how's the case going?" She asked, passing out the orange juice to Nick and the apple juice to Sara. "Murder?"  
  
"Yeah," Nick replied. "Thanks for this," he held up the juice. "Anyway, how do you break into a hotel room, and kill the only two occupants, then escape quickly - without getting caught on camera."  
  
Catherine placed the iced tea in front of Grissom as she contemplated Nick's question. "What do you think?"  
  
"Well, Sara and I thought that one of the maids or something killed them. They were seen on camera."  
  
"But," Sara picked up where Nick left off. "They came in after they two vics were killed. That's the only problem."  
  
"Well, that's a big problem," Catherine commented. She leaned over Grissom's shoulder and read his notes and whispered in his ear, "Drink it. No arguments."  
  
Grissom looked up at her, over the rims of his glasses, eyebrow raised. She gave him a defiant look in return, before going back to the situation at hand. "Well, maybe the killer didn't leave. Maybe he or she was still in the room."  
  
"Checked that," Nick said. "No other sign of outsiders."  
  
"Check again. Maybe he didn't leave."  
  
Nick and Sara looked confused; Grissom just smiled. "We're going back to the room," he announced, standing up, and reluctantly grabbed the iced tea as he caught the glare Catherine shot at him. "The killer is still there."  
  
Catherine smiled as she went back to find Warrick. "Hey," she greeted the younger man. "Did we get a match?"  
  
"You bet. I just called O'Riley - he's bringing in Zipper now."  
  
Catherine, Warrick and Sergeant O'Riley entered the interrogation room together. O'Riley and Catherine took their seats directly in front of John Zipper, while Warrick stood in the back.  
  
Catherine placed the bagged gun on the table. "Can you explain why this was in your house?" she asked, taking over the interrogation, which O'Riley wouldn't object to.  
  
"For protection. I gotta protect my family, ya know?" Zipper replied, annoyed. "This is Vegas. Not a lot of nice people here."  
  
"Was Mr. Thomas Edwin not one of the 'not so nice people'?"  
  
"What? Are you kidding me? Tom was one of the nicest people I knew!"  
  
"They why'd you kill him?"  
  
"What?! I didn't kill Tom! I couldn't do that!"  
  
"Then, could you explain why you were caught on tape, shooting Mr. Edwin to death?" Warrick asked, stepping into the light. "And also why a bullet from your gun ended up inside of his body?" He placed the shell casing and bullet on the table alongside the gun.  
  
Zipper sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, okay. So maybe I did shoot Tom."  
  
"Why?" O'Riley asked. "What'd he do to you?"  
  
"He found out that I was cheating on Rachel, my wife, with some other woman."  
  
"So, you shot him because he found out you were cheating?" Catherine asked flatly, clearly not amused.  
  
"He threatened to tell Rachel! I-I had to do something! If Rache ever found out, she'd leave me! I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't." Zipper broke down, sobbing. "I love Rachel. I was just using Laura for the money. My family needs money. I-I had to do something."  
  
An hour later, Catherine and Warrick were still stunned at the confession that Zipper made. "Wow," Warrick said, sipping some more coffee. "Shooting an old man because he found out that Zipper was cheating. I can't believe that."  
  
Catherine looked up from her paperwork. "Well, he was doing it for his family."  
  
"And that justifies killing someone?"  
  
"No. But I sure as hell would do anything in my power to raise my family."  
  
Warrick nodded, knowing there was no way around that one. He knew that she practically did go through hell just to raise Lindsey by herself. Warrick admired her for her strength. "Hey, I think I'm gonna book on out of here. Shift's just about over and I'm dead tired. Haven't been able to sleep for the past few nights."  
  
"Did you find a new girlfriend?"  
  
He laughed. "No, no. My brother's in town and his kids keep coming over every night, wanting to play Twister till they drop."  
  
"Ah, I know how that is." She flashed him a tired grin. "I'll finish up here. Great work tonight."  
  
"Thanks. Have yourself a very good morning, Cath." He smiled and departed.  
  
As soon as Catherine finished with her report, she stopped by Grissom's office to check up on him. She knocked on the opened door and walked in. "Here's my report."  
  
He looked up from his paperwork and took it. "Thanks for the help tonight."  
  
She plopped down on the wire frame chair sitting in front of his desk. "Help?"  
  
"With the case. You were right - the killer never left the room. The boyfriend ended up shooting his girlfriend, and then shooting himself right after."  
  
"People never cease to amaze me." She sighed and leaned her head on her hand. "The owner of the store shot one of his regular customers because he found out that Zipper was cheating on his wife."  
  
"Zipper?"  
  
"The store owner. Then he claims he was doing it all for his family, that he was only using his mistress for her money."  
  
"Do you believe him?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know what to believe in anymore. People lie all the time."  
  
"But the evidence never does."  
  
Catherine grinned a bit at the familiar statement. "I'm going home to rest. Maybe by next shift, I won't be surprised by the actions people take in desperate moments. You go home too, okay? You need to rest, especially since you have that appointment later in the day."  
  
"I will."  
  
She eyed him carefully, trying to see through the mask. "You better. If you don't pick up your phone by the time I get home, I'll come right back here and drag you home."  
  
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He paused before asking his next question. "Cath? I never had the chance to ask you about the Rampart case. What happened?"  
  
The happy expression on her face quickly fell. She became withdrawn and reserved, something that was unfamiliar for Catherine. "Didn't you get the report?"  
  
"I did, but I haven't had time to read through it." He held up the folder, enforcing his statement. "Want to tell me about it?"  
  
She drew a shaky breath. "After you left, I went directly to Sam's office," she recited, almost as if she were reading off a script. "We talked and I told him about what we found - the scissors and the DNA."  
  
"Whoa, DNA? When did you run that?"  
  
"I had Greg run it."  
  
"Against what?"  
  
Catherine looked at him square in the eye. "Mine."  
  
Grissom's only outward appearance of shock was his raised eyebrows. "And it came back with seven common alleles?"  
  
"Sam's my father," she whispered, looking at the floor. Closing her eyes, she pushed her emotions to the side, and looked back at Grissom. She couldn't break down now, not in front of him. "I told him my theory of what happened and he confirmed it - he killed the waitress. He found her cheating on him with Benny and killed her. Benny covered up for him by keeping the scissors in his safety deposit box."  
  
Grissom nodded. "I see."  
  
Feeling the conversation was over, Catherine stood up and told him that she was going to go home and rest. Right at the door, he stopped her. "Catherine? Good work." That was his Grissom-istic way of telling her that he was sorry and an invitation to come to him when she wanted to go more in- depth about the issue.  
  
She flashed him a quick smile and left his office. Catherine stopped by her locker quickly to switch jackets again before heading on home. As soon as she opened her locker, she found an elegant white rose sitting on the top shelf, with a note attached. She held the rose in her hand delicately and read the note. It simply said 'Thank you' written in calligraphy. Flipping it over, there was a set of numbers, written neatly in four rows. On the first row, the numbers 15 2 3 4 appeared. The second was 182. The third 791, and the fourth 5560.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"They're numbers."  
  
She whirled around and found Grissom leaning against the doorjamb. "Thank you, Professor. I figured that out."  
  
"Do you know what they stand for?"  
  
"If I knew, I wouldn't be standing here feeling like the biggest idiot in the world."  
  
"15 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days. Or 182 months. Or 791 weeks. Or 5560 days, if you'd like."  
  
"And that's supposed to mean something to me?"  
  
"That's how long I've known you."  
  
Catherine was thunderstruck. What in the world? "You keep track?"  
  
"Of course. Don't you?" came the simple reply.  
  
"Well," she muttered as she did the math in her head. "You're a day off. Technically, we were introduced formally 5560 days ago, but we actually met the day before that." He raised an eyebrow. "We ran into each other that day, but you were probably too busy to notice."  
  
"Hmm." He thought back to that day. "But we didn't exactly meet, we ran into each other. That's not exactly meeting someone."  
  
"But that's how we met anyway. If you didn't run into me, you wouldn't have stepped on my shoe, therefore, you wouldn't have recruited me." He frowned at her. "I'm just kidding, Gil. You're right. It's been 5560 days." She slammed her locker shut, forgetting to switch jackets. "But," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "the shoe thing was accurate."  
  
Grissom grinned and nodded. "That much is true," he said, taking the hand that so rudely jabbed his chest and kissing the back of it softly. "Where would you like to go for breakfast?"  
  
Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You're already assuming I said yes?"  
  
"Would you deny me?"  
  
"I hate it when you're right," she said, as they walked down the hall. It seemed she was going to have a very good morning indeed.  
  
She smirked. "What if I refused?"  
  
"I'd still take you."  
  
"Damn you."  
  
It was his turn to smirk back. "You just don't like it when you're wrong."  
  
"Neither do you."  
  
"But I'm rarely wrong."  
  
"You keep thinking that, Grissom. You keep on thinking that."  
  
The two senior CSIs walked out, grinning, with their hands still joined together. 


End file.
